


Ways of Adjustment

by Kette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: And So They Were Both Bottoms, Dom/sub Undertones, Fix-It, From My Point of View Attachments Aren't Evil, Hands Kissing, Improper Use Of Droids, Lame Jokes Only, M/M, Porn with Feelings, lots of talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kette/pseuds/Kette
Summary: Anakin wants to know if he likes it rough, and Obi-Wan didn't plan to learn it too, but he does anyway.And maybe he is also going to learn a couple of things about himself.
Relationships: Miraj Scintel/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [welmine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/welmine/gifts).



> All of this did (not) happen during and after s04e11-13 of Clone Wars:
> 
> Jedi come to the Kiros planet only to learn that all its peaceful Togruta colonists are now enslaved by the Zygerrian invaders, who gained Separatists' support just to rebuild Zygerrian Slave Empire. They head off to Zygerria, but the rescue mission goes not smoothly at all
> 
> ///
> 
> many thanks to annstis for carefully revising the text for me ♥

It was possible that Obi-Wan had been watching him for a good long hour before he asked out loud: “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” 

Because, well, Anakin paid zero attention to his now perfectly distinct presence in the Force. 

“Don’t want to know what you think I’m doing,” he snapped, keeping his gaze locked on Artoo’s circuit, already tired of this imminent discussion. 

“Well, I’ve been watching you for about six standard minutes now, so…” 

“I’m fixing my droid,” offered Anakin an easy escape for both of them. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan declined this attempt at diplomacy by fake coughing into his fist. 

“By constantly replaying his malfunction?” 

“I have my own ingenious ways which I wasn’t expecting you to fathom.” 

“Most likely.” 

Anakin thievishly wiped his forehead and finally stood up. Artoo beeped viciously and emitted another lightning, first one for the long ‘fixing’ process which Anakin met with surprise. It ran through him, blinding and powerful, the lingering trace of pain and fever slowly gravitating to the bottom of his stomach afterwards, and oh, Anakin had probably moaned. 

“…what?” 

Obi-Wan’s face didn’t change in the slightest detail. 

“Let me enlighten you that there are other ways to improve your resistance to this kind of attack, if that was your initial goal, of course,” he announced. “Also my initial goal was to summon you for what’s left of the dinner. Ahsoka joined us about half an hour ago, all excited about this being the first time she finished her fixing task earlier than you. Though it looks like you were to be disqualified after all. In fact, if you two ever think of a referee…” 

“I’m not really hungry,” Anakin brushed off Obi-Wan’s invitation only to recognise how awfully hungry he was. 

“We’re arriving to Kiros in a couple of hours, possibly right into Separatist’s warm embrace. You don’t want to face them and then realize you were wrong.” 

This sounded a lot like their everyday squabble back in his apprenticeship, when Anakin felt too offended to share a meal and Obi-Wan tried to talk him into it with the less eagerness and conviction the older Anakin became, still never entirely giving up. He wondered if things like this could change between them, ever, even ten or twenty years after him being Knighted. 

“All right, I am hungry,” he decided to acknowledge maturely to show some things do change, and lowered himself to the floor. 

“So you’re hungry and you’re staying?” 

Anakin waited a bit for him to propose, albeit sarcastically, to bring the meal here, to the hangar, but to his disappointment this was not the case. 

“I actually have to fix this shit first,” he sighed, and Artoo beeped in surprise. “Sorry, bro, referring only to that quite shocking failure of yours,” he muttered, reaching for the tool box. 

*** 

Kiros affected Anakin hard. 

Not that Obi-Wan hadn’t foreseen it the moment he saw amused Zygerrian holographic smirk of this Darts D’Nar moron, and then turned to see Anakin’s distorted face. 

Slavery, of all things. 

He half-listened as Ahsoka was reporting to the Council. She managed well, although, well, she shouldn’t have. Her concerned glimpses at her Master continued after the takeoff until she realised he wasn’t going to explain anything, and so she switched to the Master’s Master. 

“I don’t know how to put it, Master Kenobi,” she started while Anakin disappeared joining Rex on the bridge. “But there was a moment on D’Nar’s ship I don’t want to report. Skyguy got really scary threatening him, and I had to cut in. And as much as I’d like to review this with my Master, I’m seeing no possibility for it now. Or ever, to be honest.” 

“This was exactly the anticipated kind of ‘look after him’ situations to arise. I assume that your interference was crucial and very well-timed, Padawan. You did well.” Obi-Wan carefully searched for his next words. “It can be also crucial for the Council to be aware of what exactly happened on that ship. However, I don’t think it can’t wait, for I would also be glad to talk to Anakin first.” 

“Tell me if you find a way, would you?” Ahsoka asked in her sulky tone. “I have a feeling it will come in useful more than once.” 

And all it was a nice thing to say, though Obi-Wan had an extremely blurry idea of how to approach the topic. The report session was over, it was time for everyone to disperse to their cabins and have some rest, as if Obi-Wan could find enough rest thinking of how scary Anakin could possibly become threatening an enslaver, sitting in close proximity of Anakin himself. 

“You’re looking manly again,” Anakin noticed, bringing to Obi-Wan’s mind his pastime in the tower. “Shouldn’t you go get some healing?” 

“I should,” Obi-Wan agreed, lifting his hand to touch his black eye. Anakin was reclining on his bunk as if it was designed for reclining, watching him with curiosity and this special kind of intensity he developed around Ahsoka’s age. Obi-Wan was proud of her not watching either of them that way. 

“Was it bad?” 

“Bad enough to be convincing, but nothing I couldn’t completely forget in a couple of days.” 

“I mean,” Anakin looked far more focused on the conversation than Obi-Wan thought it deserved, “it was painful, wasn’t it? I’m sorry it took us so long to defuse the bombs.” 

“Well, if you’re so troubled by me being beaten up by some Separatist scumbag, you could reinforce your negotiation skills and go there yourself next time.” 

Anakin’s gaze dropped to the side as if he really was evaluating the offer, which suddenly reminded Obi-Wan of another recent skills-up discussion, involving some lightnings and a droid. 

“We both should probably look up the definition of negotiation first.” 

“All right, I see a pattern here.” Obi-Wan paid no heed to the joke, while insinuations and premonitions gathered to form rather intriguing insight. “You do want to get beaten up, don’t you?” 

Anakin hesitated with the answer, still eyeing something in the corner. 

“Why would I?” 

“Because you’re enjoying it,” Obi-Wan stated, if not so steadily as he intended. 

Anakin finally looked him back in the eye. 

“So what?” 

They stared at each other, Anakin’s daring vibes interfering with Obi-Wan’s intention to recompose himself and straighten his thoughts. This all had to deal somehow with the breakdown Ahsoka told him about, though Obi-Wan was unable to reach the peaceful state of mind needed for the connection to clarify. Maybe later. 

“If you’re longing for pleasure but seeking for pain, that’s… well, that’s worrying.” 

Anakin snorted, but didn’t deny. 

“Worrying you as a friend or as a Jedi?” 

“Both. And as your former Master too, as it certainly has to deal with your subconscious craving for submission and punishment, which I might have implied either too much or not enough during your studying.” 

Anakin leaned forward. 

“Don’t overestimate yourself, old man. There were lots of chances for them to be implied earlier.” 

Now here it is. 

“Anakin…” 

“I didn’t invent any new sexual practice, you know. Maybe I just like it rough.” 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, trying not to accompany it with a smile. 

“Do you?” 

“I might.” 

“You still don’t know, do you?” 

“I’m closer to knowing it than I ever was before!” 

“We cannot afford this almost knowing to affect your duty in the most obscure and unfortunate ways.” Obi-Wan paused to catch a breath, hearing his own rushed voice. “You have to sort it out, Anakin.” 

“Help me, then.” 

“I’d love to be at your assistance, though I don’t really…” 

“Punch me.” 

Obi-Wan blinked. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the lightning? Maybe my midichlorians just get high on the power running through them? Then it would be nothing if you just hit me.” 

“You know I cannot do that.” 

“Why? I’m asking you to. You told me I have to deal with it, and I have a plan which involves you.” 

“How not surprising.” 

“How off the topic. Hit me!” 

“Anakin, you’re getting emotional.” 

And Anakin was not the only one, but Obi-Wan at least tried to ease up, almost physically choking on Anakin’s agitation, flooding their bond. 

“You just noticed? I got emotional five hours ago on the field.” 

“I noticed it five hours ago, but I thought you would have done something on the matter by now.” 

“I can’t! I want it to come crushing on me, though nothing comes crushing on me but your hypocritical advices!” 

“You think I am a hypocrite?” 

Anakin jumped on his feet and started to pace the cabin impatiently, two steps to the door, then two steps back and to the door again. 

“I don’t. Well, I do! I think now you wish to criffing smack me, but you hold back. Isn’t it hypocrisy?” 

He froze in front of Obi-Wan, making him stand up to close the irritating height gap. 

“Then we have an Order of hypocrites.” 

“Well, maybe we do! Hypocrites and cowards. Don’t love, don’t be aroused by the lightning, don’t hit your ex-Padawan. What else?” 

“Anakin…” 

“What else, Obi-Wan? Don’t wank off thinking of your ex-Master, when he’s not even your ‘ex’ yet? Is it the fourth rule I forgot? Wait, there is one more.” 

“You’re losing it, Anakin! Calm down!” 

“Don’t ever, ever think that something can be desired more than understanding embrace by the peaceful and cowardly community of your hypocrite friends…” 

Smack. 

Obi-Wan’s hand landed accurate and firm on Anakin’s left cheek. Anakin’s head followed the movement, and for a moment an absolute, thick silence of irreversibility fell on them both. 

“I’m sor-” Obi-Wan recovered first, automatically starting to fix what he thought he could fix. What happened next was that Anakin turned back, leaned in and kissed him. 

He kissed him on his lips, eyes closed, plain and eager in his notion. It should not have been entirely unexpected, considering the things he had just said and the things Obi-Wan had already figured out, but the ease of the action threw him off, sent shivers all over the body, making his core react ahead of the tiniest thought. 

Anakin was radiating with dizzying, almost sickening heat, now more palpable than ever, and he wasn’t actually gentle, but something generous in his manner left for Obi-Wan no other option but to give in, to rest his hands on Anakin’s shivering forearms. He accepted Anakin’s lips on his own just like he accepted his frustration, his panic, his confusion back in the day when they were Master and Padawan; although this dynamic could hardly continue to be entirely the same. 

It was a hard one for Obi-Wan to indulge himself and start kissing back. He almost never felt the urge to align with Anakin’s difficult emotions, but now was different, this was different, and somehow it felt reversed this time, as if he was a mess while Anakin was all right and knew precisely what he was doing. 

The next second the illusion fell apart: Anakin gasped, dumbstruck, and flopped down on his bunk. Since Obi-Wan hadn’t displaced his hands, he held Anakin by both his suddenly limp wrists now. 

“What’s that,” Anakin said flatly. 

“That depends on,” Obi-Wan crouched down between his spread legs, not letting go of his hands, “what you are asking about. In case you were implying the idea of asking at all.” 

He smiled faintly, and Anakin stared at him as if he went missing since the Great Galactic War. After a moment he seemed to make up some inner decision, for he looked Obi-Wan in the eye with deep certainty and determination. 

“I’m not going to talk to you right now,” he claimed, voice somewhat constrained. “Either we do it, or…” 

Obi-Wan hadn’t really any idea of how this phrase was going to end (“die trying”?), as far as he strongly doubted that Anakin knew it himself. He leaned forward, meeting Anakin’s lips in a kind of a hurry this time, slightly scared of the idea of Anakin really figuring it out. It was still hot and simple, but mostly hot; Anakin moaned in his mouth as he ran his hand through the hair on the back of Anakin’s head, upwards, starting from the spot where his Padawan’s braid had been rooted for so many years, and Anakin pulled him by his shoulders, shifting closer to the wall. 

“Are you comfortable in such an intimate intercourse with a hypocrite?” Obi-Wan couldn’t restrain himself from teasing, sliding more in the Anakin’s lap than on the bunk itself and trying to avoid tucking his legs all along and tight against Anakin’s, though it was hardly spacious enough for him not to. 

“I’m. Not. Talking!” Anakin almost growled in frustration, as if horrified that the next word said will ruin literally everything — quick impulse of understanding striked Obi-Wan, leaking through their bond. What a shame. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and kissed him thoroughly, waiting until Anakin loosed his tension a bit, then half-heartedly pulled away and brushed his cheek as reassuringly as he could. 

“Then I am.” Catching the escalating turmoil in the pair of blue eyes he gave him another kiss, affectionate but short, and tried not to look at the high-coloured lips afterwards. “Anakin, what exactly and for what’s sake are we doing now?” 

*** 

Anakin hated the path all this started to follow. 

Obi-Wan was sitting on top of him — one of his hands tactfully resting on his shoulder, the other one soothing his cheek — and waiting. There was not а single particle in Anakin’s body that would like to volunteer composing any answer or making any decision now, when Obi-Wan Kenobi kissed him back and climbed in his lap. There should have been action, but there was none. There was just stunned, flustered Anakin who felt pitiful, useless and dumb. 

“I don’t know and I’m not going to decide it,” he said, hoping for detachment in his voice to hide this vapid bouquet, and swallowed forcedly. “But whatever you think of, do it harder.” 

Obi-Wan’s gaze on him became intent. 

“I see,” was everything he replied after a pause. 

Suddenly the touch on Anakin’s cheek stopped being soothing. 

“So you want to keep these feelings all to yourself. Not very Jedi way, I would say, though now I wonder if this concerns you at all.” 

Anakin got a bit rattled. Did he just scan for his emotions with the Force? He jerked his chin as if to throw Obi-Wan’s hand off, but it remained in place. 

“I do not have to read your mind, Anakin, to know you’re not releasing it.” 

His hand stiffened on Anakin’s jaw, calloused fingers squeezing it from both sides, pushing Anakin’s head into the durasteel cabin wall. 

“And not just now, you are not releasing it at all. Waiting for the special occasion? I feel it in you, Anakin, I feel you sticking to your precious drama.” 

“By saying ‘harder’ I didn’t really mean…” Anakin intended for it to sound funny, to make a joke out of the whole thing, but cut himself halfway. 

He did. 

Obi-Wan straddled his legs a bit, so he could bump his knees into the bunk, putting himself into a more stable position, like if they were to spar. But Anakin didn’t want to spar. He felt his own legs weakening even though they weren’t carrying his weight, his heartbeat sped up. Obi-Wan couldn’t know, could he? It was a show-off, if a creepily well-aimed one. 

“What’s this about, your unconsenting childhood?” _Your mother’s death?_ Anakin’s throat clenched at those unspoken words, his fear and anger simmering deep in his guts. “You are special, Anakin, yes, but not all the way down.” Obi-Wan continued in his calm, clinging voice, slowly moving his free palm along the sleeve till it reached the rim of the glove. “And most certainly none of those rusted emotions is the key to your exceptional nature. But you hold onto it, you hide it, and consequently you wish to be disciplined for it. And so you chose me to play this role… too.” He seemed to trail off a bit with the last one, as if swallowing a nervous chuckle, but instantly straightened up. “Well, let’s assume that I couldn’t resist.” 

He hesitated with the glove for a while, a slight brush of his fingers making Anakin’s breath shudder, then drew his face so close their foreheads almost touched and put his hand right above Anakin’s utility belt he hadn’t bothered to take off. 

His abdomen decided to collapse as if Obi-Wan had punched him. Maybe he’d better punched him. All the warmth and strength he absorbed from the pressure gathered in his stomach, swirling and jumbling, making him… uncomfortable. He restlessly moved his hips when nothing followed, electrified but deprived of the opportunity to let the energy go. 

“Familiar sensation, isn’t it?” asked Obi-Wan, one breath away from Anakin’s lips, and their foreheads finally came into contact. “Only you’re usually doing this to yourself.” 

“I… I don’t…” Anakin stumbled, unable to look anywhere but the single straggled hair in Obi-Wan’s neat beard. “Don’t blasting lecture me!” he managed at last, but suckled in a sharp breath straight away as Obi-Wan began to stroke his erection through his pants, firmly and evenly and slower than it was required. Regardless of the speed his lashes fluttered in defeat and his eyes fell shut. 

Now it was just breathing and stroking and a tightening grip at his chin; at some point Obi-Wan shifted, seized his hand, and brought it to the belt’s clasp, and it took Anakin a criffing minute to unbuckle it with disobedient fingers, loosen his obi and drag the pants somewhat off. 

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan murmured in a rather stifled voice and gave him a small, fleeting kiss, which above all had the most unexpected effect on Anakin’s cheeks: he blushed furiously, almost to tears, and when Obi-Wan’s calloused hand touched his bare skin, he let out a whine and thus blushed even more. 

Obi-Wan breathed deep but fast; he shifted again and tried to jerk Anakin’s dick slowly at first, but it wasn’t working for both of them at this point. 

“Fuck,” blurted Anakin and flickered eyes open as Obi-Wan considerably sped up, pushing his head and shoulder blades into the wall so strongly it already hurt. He whined once more when the pleasure was almost brimming over the edge and raised his hand to catch hold of Obi-Wan’s neck, reaching at his hair in random and uneasy strokes. And then that was it. 

“I hope that was hard enough,” Obi-Wan said after the orgasm stopped making Anakin shake so violently he was afraid the ship went off course. His breath also evened out, there were just weariness and astonishment left. 

“Well, it’s definitely not anymore.” Obi-Wan smiled at this overly lame joke and to Anakin’s dread and horror wiped his hand on the inside of his tunic. “And how civilised is that?!” 

“Not much less than all our previous activity. It’s dirty anyway.” 

Running out of his arguments Anakin wiped himself with the same part of his tunic and they sat in silence for a while. It wasn’t bad, the only thing was that Anakin’s mind fatally started to drift. 

“You’re sleeping,” Obi-Wan acknowledged softly. “Anakin, everything i said…” 

“I don’t remember a single word,” Anakin confessed sincerely. “If there was something worth discussing, you’ll let me know later, okay?” 

He looked at Obi-Wan’s reflective face, then he lowered his look only to realize proportions of his own idiocy. 

“I, uh,” he said. “I was wrong, I suppose? About things not being hard now.” 

And he thought he was lame before. 

Obi-Wan winced and got up from the bunk and from Anakin’s legs just to let him feel how numb they were. 

“It’s all right,” he replied, as if Anakin didn’t know what he was able to conceal behind this curtain of politeness. “No, Anakin, it’s really not a problem,” he added in more vivid tone. “I wouldn’t like to do it that way. I want you to rest.” 

He hesitated for a moment on his way to the door, then returned and sat on the bunk beside Anakin, half-turned. Anakin brought himself to him until their arms touched. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice strange and rough. 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth as if the monologue was to follow, but swallowed it and looked straight into Anakin’s tentative eyes. 

“You can,” he said eventually. 

And so Anakin kissed him, and then curled up with his head on Obi-Wan’s lap and fell asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

Things just happen at war. 

No, things just happen all the time. But it’s the war that makes you adjust to it in a ways you would never consider otherwise. 

Obi-Wan had plenty of time to think about his ways of adjustment lying in the frowsy barracks after another day of coal-tossing, not tired enough to simply pass out. He knew Anakin was going to come, sooner or later, brave and resolute and determined to save everyone, and he knew he and Rex were going to be ready when that happens. Until then he had to play the role of humbled and oppressed Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, almost the same one he played on Kiros, allowing to beat himself up just to buy Anakin some time. Yet his new part had an extra requirement to stay deaf to pain and suffering and despair of those beside him who didn’t know they have an Anakin to come. Most unbearable and frustrating addition of all. And yet he had to adjust. 

They had only two days left till the Royal Slave Auction, so they went back to the Coruscant, building up some flimsy undercover plan on the go, slimmed down Zygerrian armor supplies belonging to some friend of Dex’es friend, and swiftly set out to Zygerria. Anakin was acting normal enough for Ahsoka to think they have talked (well, from a certain point of view they have) and to ask Obi-Wan about the tactics applied; Obi-Wan blew some smoke instead of the answer, hoping his face wasn’t all red and steaming, and even if it was, Ahsoka knew better than to point it out. 

Obi-Wan had plenty of time to think about his tactics too. 

At his very first enslaved night he had a furious dream of Anakin whipping him on the arena and gently kissing his swollen skin in the cell afterwards; he woke up sweating and painfully turned on, and spent the rest of the night meditating. There were no such dreams since, but it became clear that unconsenting atmosphere of the last days had a significant mental influence not only on ex-slaves. Maybe he was humbled and oppressed after all. Maybe he was now craving for submission too. Maybe he was mistaken by feeling this can be right for him and Anakin, and from now on he was only going to regret and pay for his unchastity in every way possible. 

Anakin with his Padawan and, well, the 104th Jedi Battalion came in about six rotations, brave and resolute, and saved everyone. Obi-Wan loved to see his face, loved to tear the criffing manacles apart and know no Togruta will die for his disobedience. It was sort of emotional, and he also sort of enjoyed watching Rex kill sadistic jailer bastard without a second thought. 

Maybe the war wasn’t to blame after all, maybe it just let him learn a thing or two about himself. 

“How are you?” Anakin asked in an agitated voice, looking at the Togruta Governor Roshti praising Ahsoka nearby. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” Obi-Wan mechanically replied. They didn’t hug or anything, he couldn’t even raise his hand and pat Anakin on the shoulder. It just seemed wrong. “How are you?” 

“Well,” started Anakin and got interrupted by Plo Koon as they approached him and the troopers. 

By all means it was already clear what’s going to happen when they finally are alone. When all protocol procedures were completed and the ship jumped to the hyperspace, they silently marched to the cabin, catching a couple of worried troopers’ looks on the way, and as soon as the door closed Anakin hugged him tight, exhaling shakily right into Obi-Wan’s ear. 

“Force,” he muttered. “I wanted to do it for ages.” 

Obi-Wan placed his hands on Anakin’s waist and closed his eyes, resting his chin on the wide shoulder. 

“How are you?” he asked again softly, still pondering over the possibility to hear the reason and turn all this into mutual meditation. 

Anakin dwelled on the question, letting Obi-Wan feel every uneasy movement of his chest. 

“I was with the queen all the time. Her favourite toy,” he said eventually. “We had sex,” he added awkwardly in a lower voice, clearly at a loss how to present this information. 

Obi-Wan swallowed, feeling his grip on Anakin’s waist become stronger. 

“All the time?” slipped off his tongue in spite of his quite unhumorous mood. Anakin chuckled. 

“Not exactly.” 

“Tell me.” 

Obi-Wan surprised himself with this suddenly rigid demand. Anakin sighed almost in relief, as if he wasn’t surprised at all. 

“She had me on her bed, all tied up, and teased me until I was hard. Then she wanted me to beg her to do something about it.” 

Obi-Wan felt the pressure of Anakin’s hips increasing and took a step forward, pinning him to the wall. 

“Did you beg her?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Why should I? I didn’t want to and I knew she liked it.” Anakin was speaking faster and faster, still holding Obi-Wan in his firm embrace. “And I wasn’t too caught up in her charms anyway.” 

“How so?” 

“I had someone else to think about,” he said, and Obi-Wan kissed his neck following an impulse he was unable to suppress. Anakin moaned. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he said fervently. “I want you to fuck the fuck out of me. Now.” 

_I want you to fuck me_ , Obi-Wan thought, but this was no time for debate. 

“Turn,” he managed to say, losing control of his voice. 

Anakin released him and turned. 

*** 

He put his hands crossed on the wall, and his forehead onto his hands. 

Obi-Wan’s arms were around him, and it felt rather like safety than lust, though Anakin found out that safety turned him on no less at the moment. In these arms he could be anything, he could feel what he felt and know it was all right. Obi-Wan gripped his belt, this time requesting no help, and Anakin let himself be stripped out of his pants and underwear, which fell down his ankles, unfastened. 

Obi-Wan didn’t stop touching him for a second, and even when he undressed himself his head settled on Anakin’s left shoulder, anchoring him with its weight. Then there was lingering pressure on the small of his back, which Anakin couldn’t identify as anything other than shy. 

“I’m not leaving you now, so,” Obi-Wan said, hoarse, and leaned in, bringing his palm close to Anakin’s mouth. “Spit, please.” 

Anakin could feel his erection now, hard against his thigh, covered only with the bottom of the tunic. He could hear the words but didn’t make sense of them, reaching out to the fingers with his lips. Obi-Wan coughed slightly behind him and caressed his cheek with the back of his hand before setting it in front of his lips again. 

“Anakin, please, just spit,” he whispered. 

Finally getting the message Anakin tried to obey, but there was literally zero level of liquid in his mouth. He chuckled nervously and tried again, only to jolt with his whole body as Obi-Wan wiped a thin string of saliva from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. 

It was overwhelming, probably too much; Anakin wished Obi-Wan would already go straight to the business while could still stand, but he forgot how to ask. 

“I know,” answered Obi-Wan, lifting the laps of the tunic. Then a warm slick hand stroked his ass, and Anakin found himself panting and curving his back to prolong the touch. “It will hurt.” 

“Great,” he exhaled, and immediately there was a lot of pressure, making him whine and reflexly jerk away. Obi-Wan caught him and steadied his hips, breathing heavily into Anakin’s shoulder, chest nestled up tight to his back. 

His movements were slow but ceaseless, and Anakin didn’t want it otherwise. He whimpered and whined for there was no point of holding back anymore; every single worry of these crazy days eased up and died, erased by the bright sensation. It was echoed in the Force, two streams fusing into one, and Anakin knew Obi-Wan could feel it too, and this knowledge made him sob even more. 

Or maybe he wanted it a little bit faster. Like, a lot. 

He had now even less idea of how to verbalise his needs, but who needs words anyway; so he simply moved towards the thrust, suddenly aware of his own arousal and thirst, and shifted his half-numb gloved hand to wrap around his cock. 

Obi-Wan moaned through his teeth, grasped Anakin across his chest with his left arm and put his right hand over Anakin’s, adjusting the rhythm. 

“Don’t play it safe,” Anakin muttered, and Obi-Wan’s overlapping hand smoothed the head of his cock as if in spite of his weak demand. 

“Too bad I like it safe.” 

“Well, next time will be your time.” Anakin met his next thrust halfway, satisfied when it drew another compulsive sound out of him. 

“Well, that was convincing,” Obi-Wan stated in a shaky voice and popped it in starkly. Anakin cried and instantly covered his mouth, but this was hardly of any help since Obi-Wan started to really fuck him, leaving no chance to handle and lower his yelps. 

At a certain point Obi-Wan stopped jerking him off, bumped his hand into the wall and started to whisper confusedly. Anakin wasn’t in the right mind to get what he was talking about, everything got fuzzy except the heat and the rhythm, and then Obi-Wan cried out, his hand tangled in Anakin’s hair, his body froze, shuddering, and the next moment their shared stream in the Force flowed over Anakin, knocked the sense out of him, made him come so hard he almost fainted. 

Obi-Wan tried to hold him upright but failed and let them both slip to the floor, panting and distracted. 

“Maybe that is why Force-sensitives don’t get laid with each other too often,” Obi-Wan suggested, absently tugging his pants back on. “You literally cannot be sure you will survive during the climax.” 

Anakin just watched him, ignoring all the mess, not ready to do anything. 

“You think any two Force-users experience it like that?” 

Obi-Wan looked at him steadily. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Anakin felt the urge to kiss and to cuddle and to do so for as long as it was possible for him not to fall asleep. He forced himself to sloppily put on his clothes and spread his arms. 

“Come here,” he said. Obi-Wan considered it for a second and shifted, landing into Anakin’s embrace once again. Anakin smelled his dusty hair, glad that Obi-Wan didn’t have a chance to go to the refresher yet. “It’s not officially forbidden between the Jedi, is it?” he frowned at the snapping thought. 

“What, sex?” Obi-Wan’s abdomen twiched in laughter. “Well, seeing things that way would be quite underestimating the concept.” 

“But all these emotions…” 

“There is no ignorance, Anakin. I know my emotions. Do you know yours?” 

Anakin swallowed, slowly stroking Obi-Wan by the shoulder. Regardless of what he had told he later remembered their last conversation on the topic, at least partly. 

“I know there are plenty of’em.” 

“Oh, well that’s a relief.” 

He stopped stroking and slapped Obi-Wan’s arm. 

“I can’t help but wonder how I ever wanted to have sex with you in the first place.” 

Obi-Wan covered his abusive hand with his palm. 

“I’m sure this terrible mistake won’t happen again.” 

Anakin pressed his forehead to the back of Obi-Wan’s head. 

“Would you like it not to?” 

“Wasn’t a mistake from my point of view.” 

Regardless of what the man used to say, avoiding the question was Obi-Wan’s one true specialty. 

“Still, would you?” 

“What, desperately fuck you? Or let you desperately fuck me?” 

Anakin sighed. 

“Whatever.” 

“Anakin, it felt good and right to me. Sorry for the choice of words, which is most certainly disturbing you, but I cannot put it another way. I won’t make promises for you here not out of my stubbornness but out of my perception of sincerity.” He turned his head, catching Anakin’s gaze. “And I’m not saying I don’t want this to happen again.” 

“Well, you’re not saying a lot. It is disturbing.” 

“I know, Anakin.” 

Anakin leaned forward and catched Obi-Wan's lips with his own, making the kiss long and wet, feeling the sparks of tensing rising at the end of it. When they parted, Obi-Wan was breathless — the only worthy reason for his leaving things unsaid. 

“And yet,” Anakin picked up the thought somehow. “What about the attachment thing?” 

“It stays relevant,” Obi-Wan said, turning away and finding more comfortable position to lay back on Anakin’s chest. “What about it?” 

Anakin tried to pull his thoughts together. 

He thought of Queen Miraj. He thought of Padmé. Thinking of Obi-Wan was the most difficult task at the moment, so he gave it up. 

“Zygerrian queen told me stuff. It was only to distract me, of course, but… She told me we all are slaves of something if it goes at expense of ourselves. Well, she was talking about my commitment to my friends, actually.” Anakin ran his hand through his hair, losing the point, all his senses following Obi-Wan’s even breaths echoing in his body. But Obi-Wan was listening. “Forget it. What I mean is, I spent a couple of days with her, I had sex with her, and now I’m trying to make sense of her words. And I watched her die,” he added in a sombre voice. “And I didn’t want her to die, despite of her intention to rebuild the Slave Empire. Despite of what she had done to you and all those Togruta colonists and many others.” 

“Were you expecting to want her dead?” 

And why the sith did he choose exactly this aspect to pay attention to?! 

“Of course!” Anakin exclaimed, not fully understanding what he was going to confess. “I already did. I did want them dead!” 

Obi-Wan found his hand again, squeezing his bare fingers. 

“Whom?” 

Anakin’s vision got blurry and his throat felt strained, he winced and sensed a tear running down his cheek. 

“Sand p-people. Fucking tuskens!” 

“Are they?” Obi-Wan asked after a moment of silence. 

“What?” 

“Dead.” 

“Yes!” There was more than one tear already, and Anakin sobbed. “Blast it, why did you have to ask me that?!” 

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan was sitting still, carefully stroking his fingers. “Why did you answer?” 

“Cause you have blasting asked!” Anakin cried and broke down in tears, pouring all of it onto Obi-Wan’s hair and tunic — well, so what, he truly couldn’t care less. He dimly appreciated that Obi-Wan didn’t do or say anything until he started to calm down, just held his trembling hand. 

“No need to go to refresher now, thanks,” Obi-Wan announced, and Anakin snorted in disbelief, wiping his face with his not exactly very clean sleeve. 

“Is that all you have to say, huh?” 

“No, it’s not.” Obi-Wan took a significant pause, as if it actually was. “I’m thankful that you told me that. Though I’m confused.” Another pause. “And upset.” He raised a deep sigh and stroked Anakin’s thumb. “And I feel sorry for you, Anakin. No one should see what you have seen.” 

“She died in my arms,” Anakin sobbed again, yet this was a much more sober sob than before. 

“Unfortunately, I know the feeling, yes,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

_Will you tell the Council_ , Anakin wanted to ask, but this would sound childish. 

“I don’t want you to tell the Council,” he said instead. 

“I’m not gonna lie that I’m not evaluating the option,” Obi-Wan said cautiously, making Anakin freeze inside. Then he pulled back and turned around, cross-legged. “Do I have a reason to bring it to them, Anakin? Do I have a reason to tell them of Ahsoka stopping you from killing Darts D’Nar? Do I?” 

They looked at eachother, and it suddenly struck Anakin they weren’t like this, face to face, since they parted for Zygerrian mission, or even longer — since the time of their first kiss. And… following. It was so strange to remind himself they just recently had sex, though it was clear if he listened to his body a bit. 

Obi-Wan’s thoughts were probably alike, as he was the first one to break the overlaid tension. 

“I don’t want to push you with the answer, yet I want you to know that the question exists. And that I don’t want to go to the Council either.” 

_But maybe I have to_ , remained in the air unsaid.


	3. Chapter 3

Coruscant affected Obi-Wan hard. 

All the suspended questions and controversial decisions piled up in the last insane days surrounded him, waiting for his attention, and yet he was just too tired to approach them. He longed for some rest, but the steady calmness of the Temple failed to bring serenity to his soul this time, no matter how focused his meditations or how long his walks were — though Obi-Wan was happy to have an opportunity to walk freely again and spend as much time on himself as he wanted. To regain some control. 

Wasn’t it what he was doing with Anakin? Regaining control? 

Mainly he was trying to keep this kind of self-condemning thoughts from flooding his mind. Under the strictness of the Temple walls his judgement became biased and rigid, and he wondered if it had been like this before. Clearly the Force was indifferent to his overly intimate and sensual connection with Anakin; though the Jedi Order, medium in the dialogue between the Galaxy and the Force, was clearly not. 

There was an incessant talk of upcoming negotiations with Separatists on everyone’s lips, busying the Senators and providing a long-desired respite for the Jedi. Obi-Wan was not the only one exhausted. He looked at the drawn faces and waved aside the reminiscence of the speech Queen Miraj held on the auction, aspersing the Jedi Order. How come her words inexplicably turned out to be haunting for him as well? 

He desperately wanted to talk to Anakin, but Anakin was anywhere except some reachable place. He turned off his comlink, he left the Temple, he payed a neverending visit to the Chancellor, he even skipped the Council meeting, picking up some orphan mission on the Outer Rim the day before that could be handled by any Padawan alone. He just couldn’t stop for a second. Obi-Wan was worried, if not afraid, and it developed into another series of fruitless meditations. 

He couldn’t possibly imagine the next step Anakin would eventually come up with. He couldn’t, but he tried. And for all Obi-Wan knew he could equally leave the Order next morning (as if anyone was going to just let him go) or simply act as if nothing had happened and continue to distract himself with the war, maximum heroics included. And surely it was easier to entertain himself, trying to predict Anakin’s behaviour, than to compose and straighten his own. 

“Close have become, you with young Skywalker. But depend on him, you must not.” 

_Don’t worry, Master,_ Obi-Wan wanted to say, _quite irritated already that Yoda asked him to stay after the meeting to pour a lot of controversial information onto his head, we just have rough sex occasionally to lower the stress level a bit. And, oh, he also told me he massacred the Tusken tribe, but that was a long time ago, I hope it doesn’t count anymore?_

“I’m too busy depending on the Chancellor anyway,” Obi-Wan replied instead, not even bothering to disguise his annoyed tone, which made him sound like somebody else — though that somebody would never lash out at Palpatine. He cleared his throat and added more politely: “Sorry, Master Yoda, our trip to Zygerria had been a little bumpy. We still need to discuss a couple of things with Anakin, though his clear intent to avoid me is not much of a help.” 

“Then help it, you should! But first calm your own emotions, you should!” 

And, well, that was fair point, but Obi-Wan has lost his concentration somewhen in hyperspace between Coruscant and Zygerria, and also he didn’t want to chase Anakin down the streets and halls to corner him and pry some answers out of him. Actually, he was less and less sure he should phrase his questions the way he did, though he couldn’t identify the ground of his mounting doubts. So he just reached to Anakin’s mind once again to see that it was all locked down and shielded carefully, and at that point he stopped trying. 

They finally happened to see each other at the briefing before Ahsoka’s departure to Mandalore. Ahsoka was honoured to escort Senator Amidala to carry on the negotiations; and Anakin desperately wanted to come along. It was a rather frustrating spectacle. 

“The Council has already declined your request,” Mace Windu said, eyeing Anakin with grim satisfaction. “You are needed on Coruscant, Skywalker.” 

“And what exactly is so much more important than the safety of the Senator trying to stop the war?” Anakin burst out, squeezing Ahsoka’s shoulder so firmly she winced. 

“Trust in your Padawan, you should,” Yoda said patiently, and Anakin frowned. 

“I do. Ahsoka, I do trust you,” he said hurriedly, as if scared she might think otherwise. “I just… I have a feeling about this.” 

“You do?” Mace asked, unimpressed. 

Yoda looked at Obi-Wan, who was standing in the distance with his arms crossed on his chest, and Anakin followed his gaze, pursing his lips. _Don’t look at me, I didn’t ask for any of this, do whatever you want,_ Obi-Wan wanted to protest, yet he knew there still were other reasons for the Council to keep Anakin in the Temple except for their personal urge to talk. He looked back at Anakin just for the sake of looking at him. He hadn’t had a chance for quite some time. 

Anakin seemed tired too. 

“Padawan Tano will handle it and reach for help if necessary. And you have an assignment here,” Mace cut short in his definitive manner, and that was it. 

Obi-Wan told Ahsoka all the traditional parting words and hurried to be the first to leave, not really up to discuss anything with anybody in his current mood. He returned to his room, tugged off his boots with relief and two minutes after taking a cross-legged meditating position he sensed Anakin’s presence at the door. 

“So you know where I live after all,” he snapped. 

“No, I just traced you down,” Anakin countered and stepped into the room, uninvited. 

“You’ll have to wait.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes, determined to play by his rules. He heard Anakin sighing and taking steps to sit on the bed behind him. A minute passed in silence. “You can join, if you'd like,” he added mercifully. 

Against his expectations Anakin moved to the floor near him, disturbing his freshly established focus point by subtly brushing his knee. 

“Master…” Anakin started, but Obi-Wan put his hand on his thigh in warning. 

“Like I said, Anakin. I won’t talk, let alone initiate anything else until I balance myself. We have practiced it enough.” 

“Wasn’t all that bad, was it?” Anakin chuckled, but Obi-Wan hushed, removed his hand and concentrated on his own breath. 

Unlike the past days, the tangled flow of his thoughts turned out to be obedient and pliant today; he filtered them, getting more disengaged and coherent with every inhale. Another breath at his left seemed a little impatient, though it could be his imagination only. When he finally opened his eyes, Anakin was sitting with his eyes shut, introspective and calm. Maybe that was what they were meant to do from the beginning, Obi-Wan thought, and then Anakin looked at him. 

“I was afraid you won’t talk to me,” he uttered instantly. “And I still don’t know what to say, actually, so. Not much of a talk anyway.” 

This sounded almost insulting, and unusually quick-tempered answer formed on the tip of Obi-Wan’s tongue. 

“I raised you as a teenager and agreed to fuck you in the ass, Anakin.” Anakin blushed a bit at the mention, but Obi-Wan was determined enough not to bother. “Doesn’t is seem to you that I’m not to be appalled so easily?” 

“Master…” Anakin stared at him. “Are you saying that you’re used to deal with my shit?” 

Well, now Obi-Wan was on the verge of blushing himself. 

“Anyway, you don’t have to answer me,” he tactfully continued. “I’m sorry for trying to shift my responsibility on you while I was lost and couldn’t decide myself how to respond to your confession.” 

“Do you now?” 

Obi-Wan hesitated. 

“No, I don’t. This is a kind of question which takes me a long and difficult time to process. But it’s my job, Anakin, not yours.” 

This sounded blurry even for him, but Anakin decided not to elaborate. 

“I’m not good at people dying,” he said, head-on, as usual. “People die all the time, and I’m not over Master Qui-Gon’s and my mother’s death yet. Or Jabiim… I just can’t let go. Nothing is working.” He shifted a bit, his knee not touching Obi-Wan’s anymore. “I’m not proud of killing those Tuskens, though I can’t stop thinking they deserved it.” 

“It would be unbearable for you not to think like that,” Obi-Wan said quietly. 

“I know I’m just adapting. Like with Queen Miraj, when I couldn’t possibly yearn for her death after we had this sort of… connection.” 

“After you became attached,” Obi-Wan corrected automatically, and Anakin laughed. 

“Yeah, right. Well, so what? Would it be better for me to wish to kill her after all?” 

“You’re switching between extremes now. Aren’t there countless gradations of attitude between death wishing and becoming attached?” 

“You tell me, Master, you’re the one devout and true Jedi here.” 

That sounded so bold and naive that Obi-Wan was almost ashamed. 

“Well, my glorified devotion is rather questionable at the moment.” 

Anakin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“What do you mean?” 

Obi-Wan felt light-headed; result of the fine meditation, perhaps. 

“What I mean is I cannot claim myself free from any kind of dependencies, which is certainly clouding my perception and judgement. I’m not much of an example these days.” 

“Of course you are not free. You’re depending on the Order in the first place.” 

“I wouldn’t be so definite, since it is exactly the matter of priorities and places. I hadn’t been forced to choose between the Order and someone else for a long time, and I didn’t want to find myself in this position ever again.” 

Anakin swallowed. 

“Like with the Duchess?” 

Obi-Wan was taken aback by the sudden question but quickly reminded himself of Anakin’s eagerness to couple them. 

“Me and Satine both know there wouldn’t arise a real necessity to choose, at least not willingly. Regardless of what she wants, she would never ask me to leave. She understands duty.” 

Anakin stared at him, as if trying to decipher the message. 

“So you’re not talking about Satine.” 

Somehow Obi-Wan was still tentative about how to put it and whether to put it at all, but he was tired of retreating too. 

“No, I’m not talking about Satine,” he admitted, already tasting the failure of delivering his notion. “I’m saying that I have a part of me which belongs to you, Anakin, and it is wider and deeper than just some emotion I can handle. It is rooted in my core as well as my devotion to the Jedi Code, probably not so far from it. And the conflict between the two of them is literally tearing me apart.” He forced himself to look Anakin in the eye, to witness his bewilderment on the verge of entrancement. “This is what I’m talking about,” he concluded clumsily. 

“Well, I love you too, Master,” Anakin said matter-of-factly, despite his stunned face. “And I assure you this was the most romantic definition of the ‘attachment’ term the Galaxy ever heard.” 

Nobody smiled; they spent some more time, absorbing the awkwardness of the situation. 

“I wasn’t expecting the conversation to go this way,” Obi-Wan broke the silence in his delicate apologizing tone. 

“Sure,” Anakin agreed blankly. He casted a glance somewhere at Obi-Wan’s chin, then looked away. “I can go now.” 

“You can.” 

Obi-Wan damned himself for his eternal uncertainty. He knew he wouldn’t mind if Anakin kissed him now, though he was helpless to act at it first. Somehow it still appeared forbidden to dare; he was lost and he was scared and it _was_ tearing him apart. Not unlike with Satin, he was ready to surrender to what he wanted, not to fight for it. Maybe he just relied on Anakin’s eagerness to fight too much. Or maybe he simply was a coward. 

“You seem a little on edge, Master” Anakin noticed in amused voice. He was still sitting, cross-legged, watching Obi-Wan’s face. “Take a deep breath.” 

“I see you learned your lessons well,” Obi-Wan chuckled. Anakin’s previous remark eased him up, his mind stopped wandering, he swallowed and sensed Anakin’s comforting presence again. It was troubling to reach for him physically, so he did it with the Force, as if asking permission. There were no locks, no walls, no resistance on the way. 

“Are you still not balanced enough to initiate anything else?” Anakin asked in a low voice, obviously losing his temper, and this was the permission Obi-Wan wished for, but before he could act Anakin leaned forward and took his face in both of his hands. 

“Let’s go to the bed for a change,” was everything Obi-Wan came up with, rubbing their noses after unusually equal, well-balanced kiss. 

So surrender it is. 

*** 

Anakin somehow got fixated on Obi-Wan’s lower lip. He sucked on it and licked it, slightly pinching it with his teeth, then examined Obi-Wan’s flushed, baffled face and repeated. The beard was softly scratching his mouth and chin like every other time they kissed, but this was their first sort of making-out session and so the first opportunity for Anakin to really learn how blasting sensual it was. 

After another round Obi-Wan started to whine quietly every time Anakin squished the lip between his teeth, and the sound ignited Anakin’s blood, making him rush and suck on it stronger. The feeling of Obi-Wan’s dick pulsing next to his own ignited him even more. 

The whines got louder. Anakin bit the lip one last time and shoved his left hand under the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic, loosening its fit, while Obi-Wan watched him with his half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily. Why does he need to have such a long lashes exactly? They were definitely longer than Padmé’s. This was not the time to think about Padmé. Anakin slowly traced his hand to the shoulder, exposing it, pulling the tunic down. 

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan said, and it could be both in warning and in demand. 

“What?” Anakin whispered and kissed his bare shoulder, and then the collar bone, and then he felt a hand pulling him up to meet Obi-Wan’s foggy gaze. 

“If you do have something else in mind, you really have to go ahead with it.” 

“I thought you like it safe, Master,” Anakin bantered. 

“I do.” Anakin smiled at these two words and placed a kiss at the base of Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan hissed and slid his hand to the back of Anakin’s head, encouraging and welcoming his impulse. “And that is the point. I’m literally going to come in a minute, if you proceed.” 

Anakin stumbled for a bit. He did not have an elaborate plan of how to proceed otherwise, however on the second thought it all looked rather predictable. 

“You could tell me what to do instead,” he teased nevertheless, yet already not so sure of adding 'Master' at the end of it; and not bothering to wait for the answer he traced his hand up along Obi-Wan's thigh. He touched his erection briefly and went down to awkwardly smooth his ass. 

“Well, that was nice,” Obi-Wan hummed softly. “Though for some reason I have an impression you’re not so sincerely into it.” 

“I’m into anything now,” Anakin challenged impetuously and swiftly shut up, taken aback by the realisation that this was actual truth. 

“I see,” Obi-Wan replied with not even a shadow of fun in his voice. He ran his hand through the strands of Anakin's hair, then put it down on the bed in a fragile, unfamiliar gesture. “I do want you to fuck me, Anakin. If you want it too,” he uttered and cleared his throat. “And I can guide you, if you like,” he added, voice still rough, and looked Anakin in the eye, waiting. 

To be honest, under his gaze Anakin was falling apart. 

Obi-Wan sensed his abashment, of course, so he gave him a reassuring, calming kiss. 

“Anakin, do you want it?” he asked again, aiming to sound patient, though Anakin was perfectly capable of sensing his curtained anxiety too. 

“Yes,” he finally blurted and hurriedly reached for the belt, yet Obi-Wan caught his hand halfway and tugged down to his crotch. Anakin gulped, pressing his hand to the hardness. He was sweating more than he should and he wished Obi-Wan didn't notice, but he always did. 

“You can just do what you would do to yourself,” Obi-Wan suggested. “The mechanics is quite the same, you know.” 

Anakin smirked. 

“Should I call Artoo to join us then?” 

“Uh,” Obi-Wan winced, clearly appalled by the image, and Anakin found himself relieved enough to squeeze his cock through his pants, feeling it throb again in his palm, and give it a couple of firm, deliberate strokes. 

Obi-Wan crooked his back slightly. 

“On the second thought,” he muttered, breathless, “It was a nice idea with the belt.” 

“Knew it,” Anakin smirked and took it off, free to remove all too decent layers of clothes afterwards. He wasn’t going to pull the pants all the way down, but Obi-Wan lifted his hips and shaked his legs, kicking them off eventually. Anakin could see his erection now, partly covered with the tunics’ bottom. He evaluated the view for some time, mind blank. 

“How about you got undressed too?” Obi-Wan asked, comically annoyed. “It would be only fair me being not the only one to freeze my ass off here.” 

“Right,” Anakin uttered absently, unbuckled his own belt and tugged on the sleeves and pants until he was completely naked. At the back of his mind he agreed that the air in the room turned out to be chilly indeed. 

He lay back, skin sliding against skin, every touch burning like fire by contrast with the cool air. Obi-Wan hooked his leg on Anakin’s thigh and pulled him closer in an overly open and lewd motion, which left Anakin's mouth absolutely dry. 

“And you will need this,” he exhaled next to Anakin’s ear, not making any sense until something bumped into Anakin's elbow. 

“All right, from now on don't even try to lecture me on the inappropriate ways of using the…” 

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan cut him off. “Just shut up and take it.” 

It was an actual bottle of lubricant, half-full; pouring it on his hand Anakin made almost physical effort to push away all thoughts of how it could have been previously used. 

It should be easy to, well, just lubricate everything and put his yearning dick, well, inside, though Anakin lost it again, and Obi-Wan twitched as the thick liquid dropped onto his abdomen. 

“Anakin, breathe,” Obi-Wan reminded him, not really following his own advice. He was laying there, tunic slipped down off his shoulder, and Anakin breathed and lowered to kiss his chest, because he wanted to, and finally brought his slick hand in between of his buttocks, because he wanted more. 

He couldn’t resist pushing two of his fingers down the hole, blushing from the boldness of the gesture and from the shameless, straightforward reaction to it, when Obi-Wan moaned and lifted his hips, searching for the pressure. Anakin gasped and felt the precome leaking from the head of his cock, smearing instantly on the hot skin of Obi-Wan’s abdomen, which he was unconsciously rubbing against. 

“You can actually not just push and pull it.” Obi-Wan’s forehead was covered in sweat, his hips trembling, but he still managed to talk somehow. “If you keep them inside and… and just bend…” 

“It's quite like fiddling with C-3PO’s hardware, I got it.” Anakin smiled at Obi-Wan’s perplexed face. 

“And I dared to hope there were no further droid jokes intended.” 

“And who’s joking here,” Anakin sneered and tried to bend his fingers as he was told, and Obi-Wan seemed not so eager to compose some fancy phrases after that, busy huffing and itching. Flattered at first, Anakin gradually sensed his pride fading away while he merged into a deeper, all-absorbing feeling. It was infinitely satisfying to give the pleasure, not to just take it; it felt like he was in charge and absolutely defeated at the same time. Like he was willingly enslaved in a fashion it reminded him of Padmé again. 

“Master…” He choked on all the words he could, he needed to say, bringing his lips next to Obi-Wan’s ear. “I like to see you like this. I like to treat you like this.” He dipped his fingers up to the knuckles, reading response on it in every way the beard scratched at his cheek, the nails dig into his hip, the dear voice shaked in the muffled moan. “I like… I like to…” he kissed Obi-Wan’s lips passionately, the sense and the will to talk leaving him too. 

He was sure he’s nearing his own limits, though he risked to replace his fingers with something else only to understand halfway that here it is, he is coming right now, holding Obi-Wan’s firm thigh with the glove to open him up more comfortably and leaning on his trembling forearm, while Obi-Wan stares at the ceiling and presses their bodies together so amazingly tight. To his own surprize he lasted longer than he thought, barely registering soft murmur following the first tantalizing friction: “Hold on… Anakin, hold on…” 

He didn’t want to ‘hold on’, but he obeyed. The Force wrapped around them like some hot jelly blanket, melting them into one both mentally and physically. Obi-Wan’s chest was rising and falling incessantly, he was caressing Anakin’s waist with small stokes, almost surely not thinking of it. 

“Let go of my leg,” he huffed, mentor notes gleaming and drowning in the desire. “I can handle it. You’ll grow tired.” Anakin did, and now both Obi-Wan’s legs were hooked on his hips. He was aching from the arousal and tried to move, but got stopped again with the soothing “shush”. 

“I’ll come now,” he whined, at a loss of the control completely. 

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan objected, and Anakin instinctively believed him. “Now move.” 

He moved and cried from how good it felt. Obi-Wan was arching his back underneath him, and Anakin was able to sense his pleasure too, not so sharp one but lingering, driving Anakin mad with its viscosity, though Obi-Wan obviously was totally into it. 

“Wait,” Obi-Wan stopped him once more, and Anakin involuntarily slowed down, but then realized that no, not this time. 

“Sorry, Master,” he hissed, gently pushing wet bands of hair away from Obi-Wan’s forehead, and slipped out into motion, submitting to his feverish need. The no longer chilly room was filled with mixed up noises, and lust burned Anakin from the inside at the feeling and sounds; he stretched and bit Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he came, connected to the whole Galaxy at the moment of absolute happiness, lasting and lasting, and then he fell from the top of the world onto Obi-Wan’s body, and it didn’t feel like falling at all. 

Next thing he knew was that Obi-Wan was still hard and hastily jerked himself off — well, at least tried to under Anakin’s weight. Anakin shifted and put his hand over, amazed by the sensation of Obi-Wan’s come spattering onto his fingers some seconds later. He watched Obi-Wan gasping and knitting his brows, he watched him relaxing and jolting, and he adored the man so much he couldn’t possibly begin to express it, ever, not with some wooden words of his anyway. He traced his stained fingers over Obi-Wan’s twitching abdomen, increasing the mess. Obi-Wan did not seem to mind. Civilized, my ass. 

“So,” Anakin caught a slack look and got distracted with the lashes again. 

“Best resume ever,” Obi-Wan smiled with not even a dash of irony, and Anakin strongly suspected everything he knew before was no longer valid in this bright new universe. He hid his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck, slightly touching the skin with his swollen lips from time to time. Obi-Wan held him with his right arm, preventing from sliding off the bed, and sighed at every kiss. 

“How am I ever expected to be ready to settle for your death?” The words spilled out of Anakin without thinking. “I can’t get it. I don’t want to get it.” 

“You somehow developed a very perverted image of a bed talk,” Obi-Wan commented on it easily. “And fortunately enough this time I’m not the one to blame.” 

Anakin finally wiped his hand on the crumpled bed cover as thoroughly as he could and run his thumb over Obi-Wan’s sophisticated mouth, the one that composed all that wisdom and annoyance and praise over the years. 

“What would you do if I died?” the mouth asked all of a sudden. 

Anakin blinked at the casualty of the question, but he was the one who dived into the topic to begin with. 

“I thought you did, once. I don’t want to ever feel that again. It was worse than rage, less than empty, I only stayed focused on my duty so that I wouldn’t kill everyone around me and then myself.” Anakin noticed his hand shifted to Obi-Wan’s throat. “Please try not to do that again.” 

“I will, eventually.” 

Anger rushed to Anakin’s head, the hand on the throat becoming alarmingly stiff. 

“Well, I don’t want to witness it. And I don’t want to not witness it either.” 

“Could you act like it happened?” 

Anakin raised his head at once to give Obi-Wan a rattled glance. 

“I’m fucking sorry?” 

“Could you pretend I am dead and act accordingly?” The look on Obi-Wan’s face was steady, investigating something in Anakin’s reaction. 

“Obi-Wan, what the…” 

“The Council learned there will be a Separatists' attempt to kidnap the Chancellor soon, and for the sake of discovering the details of the operation I have to go undercover, smoothly and efficiently. So I suggested to fake my own death.” 

“Fuck you!” Anakin exclaimed, but then there was a hand soothing his cheek, brushing the hair behind his ear. 

“But you have to be convincing, Anakin. Do you copy? You will see me die and you will grieve, you will want to punish every person responsible. It is crucial for you to banish every last idea from Dooku's mind that I could be alive. And you can't tell anyone, even Ahsoka or Artoo. Even the Chancellor himself.” 

Obi-Wan suddenly pulled him with his arm and rolled them, almost bashing into the wall, trapping Anakin underneath him. His opened tunic covered them, building up the intimacy of the scene. 

“And how far undercover will you go?” Anakin asked, mouth dry. 

“Anakin, I cannot tell you that. The only thing that matters is that I will be alive. And that I will disappear. And you will do exactly what you would do in case I were dead.” 

“Stop saying this, I hate to hear it.” 

Obi-Wan watched him, leaning on his forearms, his breath tickling Anakin’s lips. 

“Do you promise me to swallow the plan and act in obedience to it?” 

Anakin was actually one step away from bursting out and accusing Obi-Wan and the Council of every misfortune in his sorrowful life. He also was one step away from suck and bite at his lower lip again, insolent glints of arousal toying with his flaked-out body. 

“I do,” he said in a sombre voice, and Obi-Wan kissed him, so genuinely affected it kind of made his routinely reckless decision actually worth. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually my first work in english, which i simply couldn't write in russian because all the dialogues and voices were english only in my head; and so it happened.  
> thank you all for reading, i'll be happy to read your comments and discuss anything on the story! and like it if you liked it, of course (:


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